


Paint Me A Word Picture

by SandrC



Series: Not Another Fanfiction Collection [26]
Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: Balnor is more perceptive than you'd think, Bittersweet, Erlin Kindleaf deserves the world, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Young Love, and the Boobs are his kids, do you ever think about how someone else sees you?, he is also a dad, they will have a happy ending, to some degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: "And?"“And what?""Tell me more. You've got stories about him? You know him really well? Share with me. What else?"(Or: Beverly talks about Erlin and paints a picture for Balnor, words of reverence and knowledge gold and ivory on a canvas of the past.)
Relationships: Balnor the Brave & Beverly Toegold V, Erlin Kindleaf/Beverly Toegold V
Series: Not Another Fanfiction Collection [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1312925
Comments: 16
Kudos: 57





	Paint Me A Word Picture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KLStarre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/gifts).



> Somehow, some way, I managed to write something that isn't inherently sad. Bittersweet, sure, in the vein of young love and the past and childhood, but not sad. Go me!
> 
> Bev calling Balnor "dad" killed me? I'm dead. It really got me good and I wanted to explore this. Especially since someone on Tumblr (who I cannot remember, so I am sorry for not crediting) mentioned that Balnor never actually met Erlin.
> 
> I wanted to explore the concept of soft and adoring love? The kind that borders on a type of faith? Young and tender and trusting. And if you've known someone your whole life, you have a lot of stories about them, I'm sure.
> 
> The soundtrack for this one was just...it was everything by the Oh Hellos coz fuck, y'all...all of Wormwood is about death and fate. Thus Always to Tyrants is such a NADDPOD song. A Pale White Horse? Where is Your Rider? It has the Mood.
> 
> Also, Kes, I finished it, so you can't have this ones outline, but know that the thought "oh, Kes will die if I post this saccharine nonsense" is what drove me to finish. Instead, have it as a gift. Thanks. :>

Balnor found Beverly staring down at Erlin's journal with a pinched look on his face and _immediately_ knew something was wrong. He had a strange far-away glaze to his eyes, fingers tracing the embossed pattern on the cover of the journal as he sat in the middle of the Boobs' shared room, cross-legged and silent.

Balnor let out a loud, theatrical yawn, stretched, and nodded at Bev. "Hey bud."

" _Hm?_ Oh," Beverly looked up from the journal, starting slightly, and gave Balnor a soft smile. "Hey Balnor."

"What you looking at?" He knew well enough what it was but, if there's one thing he's learned by being around those three, it's that it's like pulling teeth to get them to admit to anything _too_ emotional. Even the literal .

"Oh? _Uh_ , it's Erlin's journal. The one he gave me in Hill Holm, before we went and did the whole...," Bev gestured about, seemingly at all of Gladeholm. Balnor nodded, affirming that he did remember the whole tournament. "It's... _kinda neat_ , really. He put a lot of effort into documenting what he was up to and his journey. All for _me_."

Balnor could hear the quiver in his voice, could see the way his hands shook, could see the set of his smile—not a smile but a _grimace_ , biting teeth and anguish—and sat down next to him, right on the floor. " _Y'know_ ," he groaned as his body protested the action, "I don't think I got to meet Erlin. What's he like?"

Bev brushed a chunk of hair behind his ear with one hand and looked down at the journal. When he spoke, it was careful and quiet. " _He's_...he's my best friend? Has been since we were little. Before it was Egwene and him with Nana, they lived near us. We spent _every hour_ of _every day_ together for _years_."

Balnor could imagine two small halfling boys roughhousing in a luxurious backyard. A picture hung above a mantle in a fine oak frame. Quintessential childhood memories preserved by their parents. He smiled a little bit and nodded.

"He's a lot like Egwene, or he _looks_ a lot like her. Comes with being _related_ , I s'pose." Bev let out a soft huff of amusement. "Curly hair, ginger, kinda gets in his eyes. He's got freckles all over," he gestured to the bridge of his nose, up his cheeks, and then his shoulders, painting an image of Erlin's freckles, "green eyes, _great_ smile. Never needed braces or anything. _Just_...great as-is."

Balnor knew Egwene. He'd seen her around Gladeholm, sullen and smoking while posted on a tall look-out point. Her wild red ringlets and sharp green eyes made for a fine baseline for what Bev was trying to express. Maybe softer than her, looser curls, shy, and smiling. Somewhere between her and Bev himself.

"You were together a lot, _huh_?" Balnor prodded, noticing the tilt of Bev's shoulders softening as he talked.

" _Mmhmm_. Grew up friends, went to Green Teens together, we've...we've _always_ had each other." Bev got a little listless again.

"And?" _Don't let him lapse. Keep it up. If he stops to think about things, he's gonna fall into the pit again. **Keep him afloat.**_

“And _what_?"

"Tell me more." Balnor waved one hand about in a broad circle. "You've got stories about him? You know him really well? _Share_ with me. _What else?_ "

Bev froze like a deer observed, eyes wide and eyebrows having disappeared in his fringe. "Wh-what else? About _Erlin_?" His face flushed and he stared back down at the journal on his lap, shoulders tensing again. " _Um_ , well...he’s _really_ good at entomology?"

"The study of words?"

Bev shook his head, "No, that's _etymology_. _Entomology_ is the study of _insects_. Erlin likes bugs— _mostly_ moths and butterflies, though he really likes spiders too—and he’s, like, _really_ passionate about it? Spent a _lot_ of third grade catching and classifying the bugs in the Galaderon Glade. Me and Erlin and Egwene and mom went camping one time to do just that. Mom wound up going home because dad got called out on duty and needed her to do... _something_ , but Egwene got mom’s tent to herself so she was pretty happy.” He smiled, thinking about it, leaning back against Balnor a bit. He was starting to relax, which was nice. All he had to do was _keep_ relaxing. “That morning we woke up and caught nightcrawlers and pillbugs and slugs. Midday was grasshoppers and crickets and cicadas and butterflies. Then nightfall was moths and fireflies and half a dozen other things."

"Sounds fun."

"It _was_. I _think_ I still have the book we drew the diagrams in? _I mean_ , it existed before..." _Thiala, Gladeholm, the end of the world_ , "but we didn't even do it for any sort of _grade_. Just coz we _could_. My hands were _covered_ in ink by the end of it but we had fun. Did you know that when caterpillars become butterflies, they turn into goo first? They have to die and lose all of their form to become something better.” He grimaced. "I think I made a comment about puberty in relation to butterflies. I don't remember. S' _embarrassing_."

"So Egwene came with you? She's his older sister, _right_?"

Bev nodded and shifted how he was sitting, pressing himself closer against Balnor for support, legs splaying out a little more. "She's three years older than us. Always been _cooler_ than us, too, but I think most of that may have been a walls thing." He made a gesture like walls raising up, his shoulders tightening. "But she was usually our chaperone when we went out to do things. _Especially_ when she got knighted."

"Their parents busy?" The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted asking. Bev winced and leaned his head against Balnor's shoulder. " _Ah_ , I mean—"

" _It's okay_ ," Bev cut him off, "you didn't know. _They_...died when Egwene was about thirteen and we were _ten_? I remember because they had to move in with their Nana, and Nana Kindleaf lived halfway across Galaderon. I don't think I _really_ understood it at the time, but he told me that my _not_ understanding _helped_. He had someone who wasn't constantly telling him they were _sorry for his loss_ or asking if he was _okay_. Just someone who was the same before as after."

_Oh_. That explained Egwene's violent response to Erlin being gone. He was her last reminder of her parents. He was the last bit of her family.

Balnor absently reached for the woven wicker ring around his neck, Marianne's name coming unbidden to the tip of his tongue.

"Sounds like you were inseparable."

"We _were_. Attended the same classes and _everything_. And then, during the summer when we were ten, _right_ before my eleventh birthday, we joined the Green Teens and it went from me and Erlin, to me and Erlin and Durlin and Cran." Bev was facing away from him, but Balnor could still hear the smile in his voice. Those were happy memories.

"Cran and Durlin are... _characters_. Have they _always_ been like that?" Stout and serious Cran, covered in scars, talking about traps and iron-covered weapons and safety. Well-groomed Durlin, boisterous and elf-like in his mannerisms, proudly proclaiming his love for his wife and wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

Bev laughed, shaking against Balnor's side. "Not _quite_ like that. I think the Faewild may have exaggerated a bit of their personalities. That and, _well_ , they grew up. _Without us_. Maybe if they'd stayed here, it would've been different."

"The Faewild _saved_ them," Balnor said. He _tried_ to keep his voice flat, without any drive to it, but that had been his home once. _Sure_ , it was chaotic and unusual, but _it had been his home_. Being there wouldn't have changed them _too_ much. It was the circumstance of it all, _not_ the environment.

" _I know_." Harsh, not bitter, but _tired_. "I know." Softer still, the edge gone dull.

They sat there for a moment, silent, leaning against each other. Bev was nestled into Balnor's side and his breathing had started to even out slightly. _How long_ had Bev been awake, worrying over Erlin and his decisions? _How long_ had Bev been worrying at his pain? _How long_ had Bev been blaming himself today, let alone every day after the fact?

Does it help to talk about the good more than the bad? _Was he helping_?

Balnor let out a soft sigh—the kind that's a release of tension, a drawn bow let back to rest, arrow placed at home in its quiver—and adjusted his position so Bev could better lean into his side. The warmth was grounding, a focus in the middle of a tempest.

Made him drowsy.

"We're some kind of _something_ , _huh_?" He asked no one, soft enough that it was a low rumble in his chest, barely audible over his own heartbeat.

They sat there, still, for a moment longer. It felt like an eternity of silence and solitude, comforting and familial. It felt like _home_.

_They_ felt like home.

“ _Oh_ ,” Bev shifted and tugged on Balnor’s shirt to get his attention. A fluttering caught in Balnor’s chest but he said nothing, just raised his eyebrow in response. “Did I tell you that he was the first in our friend group to do magic?”

“ _Really?_ ” Considering Durlin was a bard, Bev was a competent paladin, and all four of them had been in a program _intended_ to make paladins out of young children with faith and the power to channel it, it was kind of surprising to hear. “What kind of spell?”

“Cure Wounds.” Bev held up his hand. On the base of his palm, right near his wrist, was a small scar. “We were, _I dunno_ , maybe like _nine_? Before we joined up with the Green Teens, coz they only took kids ten or older? So this was before Egwene was accepted into the Knights, even though she was a Green Teen. Erlin and I were playing out by this old hilly area? It’s in Middle Galaderon, not the residential areas per se, but _close_ to them. _Might_ have been some kind of drainage ditch or something. Me and Erlin used to go and play there all the time, taking big chunks of wood and sledding down and so on? We were doing that and I hit a rock and went _flying_.” Bev gestured, pantomiming going toes over ears, a fond smile already sweeping away some of the earlier tension.

Balnor tried to imagine a smaller, more impulsive Beverly tumbling into a drainage ditch after getting thrown off a makeshift sled. His gaze caught on the large scar on his forehead and the smaller ones on his legs. He remembered the way Bev had jokingly admitted to getting himself thrown off a tower by an upset god. _It tracked_.

“When I stopped moving, I was so dizzy and hurting that I couldn’t see straight. Erlin had already hit the bottom and was heading back up when I fell, so he dashed back down and wanted to make sure I was okay. And I _probably_ was, but I was little, and pain feels a _lot_ when you’re little. So I was _bawling_.” He gestured to the mark on his hand. “I’d cut myself pretty deep when I fell— _probably_ on some kind of rock or old metal—and it didn’t hurt so much as it bled a lot, but I was howling like my hand was gonna hafta get amputated and Erlin was panicked.

“I remember him saying something like ‘Dude, _no_ , you’re gonna be _fine_! Look, we can get this fixed up, _no problem_. You don’t gotta tell Mister B about it!’ I was yelling about how my dad was gonna kill me and I was gonna hafta work in the castle with the boy king, and how the boy king was _awful_ and _I didn’t wanna go_. I think even _then_ I had a flair for the dramatic.” Beverly laughed a bit, bitter and fond all at once. “But I kept insisting that _no_ , my dad was gonna find out coz he could read my mind and I was gonna hafta get a prosthetic hand like Mister Anders, who worked with the White Knights and lost his hand in the War, and _oh_ , I worked myself into _such_ a tizzy.

“Eventually, Erlin grabbed my hand and wiped a lot of the blood off and looked over the cut. ‘It’s not _that_ deep. We can just bandage it up and then make sure to clean it and it’ll be _fine_! No one has to know. _C’mere_!’ And he ran his fingers over it and there was warmth and light and _then_? It just _healed over_.” Bev leaned back against Balnor again, limp, the tension that had started building gone again. “I was so shocked I stopped crying. We’d never used _any_ kind of magic before and this was a Big Thing. So we had to be ankle-deep in rainwater, blood on both our hands, and silent as the grave as we tried to figure out _what_ just happened. _Eventually_ we climbed back up and went home but...it was the first time _anyone_ my age ever did magic and it was to help me? I...it felt _special_.”

“ _I’m sure_. Magic is...it’s _something different_. Especially if someone does it _for_ you.” Even now, after _hours_ of combat and work, whenever Bev or Moonshine topped him off or brought him back from unconsciousness, or buffed him, it felt like a _gift_. A personal thank you. A love language of arcana and preparation.

“After that he learned to cast little cantrips and would always run to me to show them off. Light, Thaumatergy, little things like that. We spent a lot of time going over magic and what made it cool. _He_ taught me how to cast Light, not anyone else. I think that, if he hadn't gotten into the Green Teens, he would've made a _pretty_ impressive wizard." Bev smiled and brushed his thumb over the scar on his wrist, _wistful_. "So when he said he was gonna be a _cleric_ , right as we were leaving Galaderon after the takeover, I was _happy for him_? He was doing something _he_ was good at, instead of doing what was _expected_ of him. It felt nice to know he was trying to do right _by him_."

_That_ was a _loaded_ way of saying _something_. Balnor looked down at Bev, eyes searching for any scrap of additional information on his feelings. Bev was staring at his wrist, a little far off, a little sad, mostly lost in his memories. Nothing terrible, nothing concerning, just a sad bit of reminiscence.

"He was better at magic than the rest of us, like I said, but he never once _thought_ that he was. I think...he always compared _himself_ to _everyone else_ and _never_ saw that _he_ was talented too. It was _frustrating_ sometimes coz he felt he wasn't as good at defensive maneuvers as _Durlin_ or as good at traps as _Cran_ and he couldn't fire a bow as well as _Egwene_ and he mentioned he wasn't as good in practical combat as _I_ was _and_..." Bev let out a soft noise of frustration, a huff of air from his nose, and nestled against Balnor, "I just wish _he_ saw what _I_ saw."

"What was that?"

"Someone who was really skilled. Someone who was kind and smart and steadfast. Someone who was loyal and sweet and stronger than he thought. Someone who believed and trusted with his _everything_. Someone who _understood_ magic. He went out of his way to be kind, to make people feel better, to make the hurt go away, and that's _admirable_." Bev's admission was even but heavy, each word weighed with conviction. "He's my best friend, _sure_ , but he's _also_ the strongest person I know. Even after it was just him and Egwene and Nana, he never stopped trying to smile. Trying to make _others_ smile. And even though he wasn't confident in his combative skills, he _still_ tried to protect my mom and his family when Galaderon was burning. He's someone I've _always_ strived to be more like and...I just wish he could have seen it for himself."

Balnor carded his fingers through Bev's curly hair, softly contemplating the reverence and sincerity of his love for Erlin.

Someone to look up to. Someone deserving of the love he gave to others. Someone who was worthy of praise he denied himself. Someone who had always been there, consistent and comforting.

It painted a fine picture of the boy Bev was dating and, if Balnor had the right, he'd tell Bev he was proud of him and his decision.

He _didn't_ , but it's the thought that counts.

As Bev leaned against Balnor's shoulder and started to slowly nod off, tension abated and shoulders relaxed, his hand brushed the journal in his lap and a sleepy smile drifted across his face. "Thanks for listening, dad," he muttered, sleep stealing him away, leaving him heavy and curled against Balnor's side.

Balnor's heart caught in his throat.

_We'll get him back, bud,_ Balnor thought, rolling the mental picture he had of Erlin around in his head. _I'll make sure of it. You **both** deserve happiness._


End file.
